


A Different Kind of Joy

by crescentblood



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alcohol, Awkward Conversations, Fire Emblem Kink Meme, First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:02:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24971257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescentblood/pseuds/crescentblood
Summary: Holst had known Cyril for quite some time now, and yet had never known the serious young man to smile.There were, perhaps, better times to think of a solution to that than when he had alcohol in his belly and a libido long neglected.Kink meme fill.
Relationships: Cyril/Holst Goneril
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29
Collections: FE3H Kink Meme





	A Different Kind of Joy

**Author's Note:**

> Response to a [ kink meme request. ](https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1608.html?thread=2043976#cmt2043976)

Holst the General and Holst the Man were two very different creatures, and nothing encapsulated that difference better than the latter's complete lack of planning for any and all situations. After all, this was the man who spoiled his sister rotten without any thought for how lazy she'd turn out in the long run; the man who downed a mushroom with nothing but curiosity on his mind and spent the next few nights with bed and bucket as his closest friends. He was a doer, not a thinker.

The only thought he'd brought into his get-together with Cyril was that the younger man could stand to lighten up a little. He'd grown so much since they'd last crossed paths- almost doubled in height, lost the baby fat around his cheeks, traded in scrawny limbs for wiry muscle- but his frown was as deep-set as it'd always been.

And maybe Holst felt a little guilty about it. Not like his word alone would've done much to change House Goneril's treatment of its servants, especially not those with Almyran blood, but there'd been plenty of times he'd crossed paths with the kid and could've offered a kind word instead of glazing over him like he was part of the decor. _Treat the servants like they're not there._ he'd been taught, _It's their job to be invisible._

And what effect did that have on a person, being treated like they were nothing? Well, Holst had gotten an idea of it just from spending the evening with Cyril- convincing the kid to take some time off had been an ordeal all of its own, like he'd be struck down on the spot if he idled for even a moment.

_"Come on, you gotta take some time for yourself." Holst had said._

_"I'm not a slacker." Cyril had snapped back. "There's still a lotta jobs need doing, and any second I'm not doing them is a second wasted."_

Holst had considered flinging Cyril over his shoulder and making a break for the nearest tavern, but instead he put the old noggin to use and convinced the kid that time spent _recuperating_ was time well-spent on avoiding a mess in the future. Hilda wasn't the only Goneril who could twist people around her finger if she needed to.

So that's how they came to be in the dining hall, Holst with wine warming his belly and Cyril with the world still weighing on his shoulders, no doubt thinking of the many chores he could be doing instead of entertaining the whims of his former employer.

So yeah, maybe Holst wanted to see him smile for once in his life. And what better way to make someone feel good, said the alcohol in Holst's system, than to shove a tongue past their frown and caress their mouth until they were too dizzy to remember why they were upset?

(No, actually, he couldn't just blame the alcohol for that. Cyril was beautiful- soft curls, umber skin, deep amber eyes, he'd have people falling for him left and right if he ever peeled himself away from his job. On top of that, Holst's libido had been suffering the past few weeks from non-stop deployment. So maybe he was in this for his own gain as much as he was for Cyril's, and that's something he could feel bad about in the morning.)

Cyril had frozen like a deer hearing a twig snap, cheeks flushing as red as his swelling lips (and damn, he had a nice blush too, visible from a mile away). Holst wouldn't be surprised if he'd never kissed or been kissed before. "That feel good?" he asked, hand embracing the crook of Cyril's shoulder, his breath heavy with the scent of fermented berries.

There was no reply in words, just a soft, hesitant jerk of the head after a long, long moment of thought. Still some uncertainty in his eyes, the workaholic in him probably warning about all that needed to be done in the morning, so Holst sweetened the deal by sneaking a hand onto Cyril's thigh, caressing the sensitive skin softly, kissing the shell of his ear as he shivered from the attention.

"Want me to keep going?"

* * *

Cyril had said "No", and then "Wait", and then "Uh...", and then, finally, "Not here", which Holst was more than happy to oblige. Would've even carried Cyril all the way back to his room- Holst's last fling had loved that, led him to the wall twice on the way there for some impromptu making out- but Cyril was more stubborn than that, taking the initiative and all but dragging Holst down to the lower corridors of the monastery. There'd always been something cute about how serious he was, but now it was hitting Holst in a much different way.

The room he was led to was sparse, only enough furniture to count on one hand, and was nearly identical to the servant quarter's back home- he'd gathered that Cyril had more freedom at the monastery, but then, knowing him, he probably preferred a sparser environment. Or at least was too used to it to change, but Holst only had a second to ponder over _that_ moral quandary before the door was closed and Cyril was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, reluctant to pass the reigns in so many words but also clueless as to what happened next. Again, adorable.

Not one to waste time, Holst closed the space and brought Cyril into another kiss, slower this time, appreciating the softness of Cyril's lips, the timid energy that guided his tongue, and the quiet moans he didn't seem to be aware of. Burly hands slid up Cyril's chest and down his arms, searching for and unravelling the leather straps that held together his breastplate, spaulder, and harness. After that came the cross-straps of his tunic, which Holst undid one by one as Cyril's hands skittered cautiously up the firm muscle of Holst's back, his touch as delicate and uncertain as his tongue.

Once the last strap had come loose, Holst left Cyril to shed the garment while he busied himself with his own clothes, flinging his outer jacket to the floor and then peeling his undershirts away until the air tickled his bare chest. The difference in their sizes was more palpable than ever, but Cyril didn't shy away from Holst's impressive display of muscle. He did, however, let out a surprised gasp as Holst swooped in again and brought his tongue and teeth to Cyril's collarbone, nipping playfully at the skin while its owner squirmed in restrained enjoyment.

He continued down Cyril's chest, taking a nipple into his mouth, enjoying the wondrous hiss he got in response as he teased the nub gently with his teeth. At the same time he wrapped his hands around Cyril's waist and urged them both in the direction of the bed until the back of Cyril's knees bumped against the frame. Holst urged him down and onto his back and then straddled him, a knee on each side of Cyril's waist, and there he paused a moment to appreciate the gorgeous display before him.

The room's only light was a candle, the flame casting Cyril's skin in an almost golden light. Holst traced a hand down his chest, feeling the contours of sinewy muscle born from hard work and training. Cyril grabbed his wrist before he could pull back, and the surprise of it stopped him from resisting as Cyril brought their bodies closer, now the one to sink his teeth into Holst's pale flesh.

He really didn't know what he was doing, his markings haphazard, but there was a little cluster of nerves along the breadth of Holst's shoulder that sent toe-curling jolts of pleasure through him when Cyril's teeth found it- and when he felt the shiver course through Holst's body, he eagerly attacked the spot again, teasing with teeth and rolling with tongue until he'd weaselled out a long groan of contentment. Crafty little dastard, he was.

He pushed Cyril back down onto the bed, and though there wasn't yet the smile that Holst had craved, there was a triumph in the younger man's eyes at his ability to adapt to these strange and unknown pleasures.

But then, Holst couldn't help but think with a smirk, they had barely just begun.

"If you need us to stop at any point, you let me know." Holst's first sexual encounter had been... awkward, to say the least, and that was with full knowledge of what sex was and how to do it. He couldn't imagine the same for a young man who'd never even shared a kiss before.

Still, Cyril was quiet as Holst slid his digits under the hem of Cyril's pants, gently tugging them down and off his legs completely. He could tell immediately that Cyril had followed in the grand tradition of Almyran wyvern riders, cause little else explained how deliciously firm his thighs were, taut and strong from years of framing the upper chest of a dragon. The thought of them wrapped around Holst's waist sent a pleasant thrum down to his crotch. Speaking of...

He heard Cyril's breath hitch as he moved next to the man's underwear, slowly sliding it down his thighs until his half-erect cock bounced free from the fabric. Holst looked up, saw that Cyril had self-consciously averted his gaze, and paused to rid himself of his own pants and undergarments. Nothing was more awkward than being the only naked person in the room.

Where Cyril's body was slender and clean-shaven, Holst's was thick and hairy, a hefty happy trail leading down to his eager cock. He adjusted his position on the bed and gently brought his dick down until it was rubbing against Cyril's, pulling a moan from both of them as the sensitive skin thrummed from the contact. He held out his hand for Cyril to take, and once he did, nervously, Holst wrapped both palms around their cocks, sighing deeply as he encouraged Cyril to pump his fist up and down.

The friction of cock against cock, forced even tighter together by their pumping fists, was devastatingly good. The air grew thick with their moans, sounds coming from Cyril that Holst was certain no one had heard before, unrestrained and vulnerable and from the very depths of his being. The old mattress beneath them creaked with every dip of their bodies, and Holst thanked the goddess that the room was so far off from everyone else who was staying at the monastery that night.

Before he became so overcome with lust that he jacked them off to completion, Holst forced their bodies apart, tingling at the whine that Cyril gave in response. "Relax, we're getting to the good bit. Now it's going to feel real awkward at first, but..."

Holst had put two fingers together and brought them down to Cyril's behind before it occurred to him that _goddess_ no, he couldn't do this dry. "Uh... oil, do you have any oil?"

He kind've deserved the look of bewilderment he got, but then Cyril nodded his head to the desk in the corner. It was one of the student desks, Holst realised as he slipped off the bed and strode over, albeit battered and holding personal knick-knacks and cleaning supplies rather than books and quill pens.

Thinking on it any longer would likely come to a depressing conclusion, so Holst instead snatched up one of the oil bottles and hurried back to the bed before his erection flagged. He snapped open the cap and applied a liberal amount of the pale yellow liquid to his hand, making sure his fingers were coated thoroughly before he moved back to his previous position at Cyril's waist. "So what I'm going to do is... I need to loosen up the muscle down here so I can push in, and it'll feel awkward at first while you're opening up-"

"W-wait." Cyril got up on his elbows, staring at Holst's slackened hand with a mix of curiosity and trepidation. "If it needs to be loosened up, that means... you're not supposed to put something in there, right?"

"Er." Holst stumbled for an answer, panicking slightly as the concern on Cyril's face grew. "No, no, it's... you know how you have to do your stretches before you put your body through something intense? It's like that."

"...If ya say so..."

"I can do it to myself first, if you're really unsure."

Cyril considered it for a long moment, but then shook his head. "It's fine, I'll... I'll trust ya."

Coming from a guy who seemed reluctant to open up to anyone, that meant a lot. "I promise it won't hurt." Holst continued. "It'll feel strange while you're adjusting to it, but then it'll be good. _Real_ good. If it does hurt, you tell me right away, alright?"

"Alright. I will."

Holst started by rubbing his slicked fingers around the entrance, coating the skin until it was nice and slippery. His other hand had returned to pumping Cyril's cock, giving him something pleasant to be distracted with whilst Holst prepared him for penetration. Once it was clear that the hole wasn't getting any wetter, he carefully nudged one of his fingers inside, the muscle immediately tensing around it.

"Alright, tightening like that is normal, but now you have to learn how to relax down there."

Cyril breathed through his teeth, and slowly his muscles unclenched. Holst pushed his finger further in, and then out, setting up a rhythm for Cyril to adjust to. "And some people do this every night?" Cyril asked, watching with half-lidded eyes as Holst's callused fingers teased his cock. "I mean, it feels _nn_ nice but, it's weird, and a lotta work."

"It's worth it in the end. That, and it's much easier after the first few times." Holst added a second finger to the first, sinking them both deeper into the hole.

" _Unh_ , and how did someone even figure this out in the first place? I mean, ya poop from down there..."

"Come on, don't be bringing that up _now_."

"Sorry. I always get told that I speak my mind too mu- _Haa!_ "

Bullseye. Cyril's back arched off the bed, backside quivering from the sudden burst of pleasure. " _Haa_... wha- what was..."

"That, Cyril, is why people do this every night." He curved his fingers again, hitting the same cluster of nerves, drawing another delectable moan from his partner. "Feels good, doesn't it?"

"Ah- amazing..."

Cyril was a lot less chatty after that, ensnared in the rapture of his stimulated cock and prostate. He squirmed as Holst scissored his fingers open, loosening his ass further, but the temptation of hitting that high again, of going even _further_ , kept him from complaining.

"There's a good lad..." Holst gave Cyril's dick one last jerk as he pulled his fingers out, retrieving the oil to coat over his own dick this time. "And not to repeat myself, but if you want to stop at any time then you let me know."

"Yeah, I heard ya."

"Just keep it in mind." Holst leant over, his smirk kissing the shell of Cyril's ear. "I have been known to get a little... _wild_."

His cock twitched as he felt Cyril shiver. But though there was nervousness in Cyril's eyes when he pulled back, there was also determination, and not an inch of resistance as Holst nudged his legs apart and then lifted them up and around his waist. His thighs felt as good as Holst had hoped, and he suppressed a moan as the muscle tightened against him.

Holst adjusted himself a little longer, lining up his cock with Cyril's entrance and positioning his legs so he could thrust forward comfortably. Cyril lay back fully, arms either side of his head, looking so utterly desirable that Holst lamented that it'd taken them so long to reunite.

"You ready, beautiful?"

Cyril huffed. "Don't call me that."

  
Holst pushed himself in slowly, guiding his cock with his hand and then coming to a stop about halfway in. He felt Cyril tense and then slowly, slowly relax, his breath halting as Holst began a gentle rhythm pulling himself out, and then in. With each thrust he could feel Cyril's muscles opening, adjusting, allowing him to sink in a little deeper each time. And each time he felt that pull he moaned, his body begging him to encase himself fully and fiercely.

A little at a time, just a little at a time.

He leant over and clasped Cyril's hands with his own, transfixed by the misty-eyed bliss in Cyril's eyes as he was getting pumped faster and faster by Holst's thick cock. He pressed his lips to Cyril's neck, felt his Adam's apple bob as his moans grew breathier. Sweat already stuck to his skin and Holst lapped it up with his tongue, a long stripe from his collar right up to his jaw.

"Say my name, Cyril." he ordered, his dick pushing in further, his balls almost flush against Cyril's ass.

"Hhh..." His long breath hitched up into a whine as Holst pulled out and then thrust in again with a harsh snap of his hips. "Ah, Holst..!"

Goddess, it was like music to his ears. His hands pulled away from Cyril's and wrapped themselves around the Almyran's hips instead, giving Holst better purchase to thrust into him. " _Louder._ "

"H-Hol- _ahn, ahh,_ Hooolst..!"

There was a satisfying slap of skin on skin as he pushed fully into Cyril, his pace now so fast that the wooden frame of the bed swayed from the force. "Tell me- _hah!_ \- tell me how much you love it, how much you _want_ it."

He shouldn't be so fast, so wild, not for someone's first time, but Cyril's hands had reached up to claw into his back, his moans and cries of ecstasy were like a sonnet, and his ass was so _hot_ and _tight_... "It's good, it's... it's so good, it's _haaah_ so much... so..."

He dug his head into the crook of Holst's neck, his moans so loud even while muffled. Holst brought them down so that Cyril was flat against the mattress and the pressure was off his legs, and then he was pounding even faster than before, all concentration on keeping up his frantic pace.

"Let me hear you, Cyril." he gasped, one hand moving from Cyril's hips to the bed to balance himself. The headboard was slamming against the wall. Underneath, the bedposts skittered ever so slightly across the floor. "Goddess, you're so damn good..."

Cyril's body stiffened against his suddenly, and the muffled cries against his skin became strangled. Strings of warm stickiness shot against his torso, and Holst realised his own release wasn't far behind. He lost his pace altogether and was now just pistoning in a frenzy, mind only on that point of ecstasy that drew closer, closer...

Cyril pulled his head away so that Holst could feel his wet breath on his ear, hear the dazed murmuring of his name, and he barely had time to pull out before he was coming, white semen painting the canvas of Cyril's golden torso.

And then Holst breathed.

It felt like a lifetime since air had entered his lungs. Exhaustion hit his body like a truck and he collapsed on top of Cyril, their bodies heaving against each other, sweat and semen mixing together. Satisfied- oh, _so_ satisfied- but also entirely spent.

That's how they remained for what felt like minutes. Holst raised his hand up blindly, felt the curve of Cyril's face, and reached further up to stroke his hair. Cyril leant in to the touch, which was a good sign.

Surprisingly, it was him that spoke first. "Ya... ya weren't kidding. Th-That was... wild."

Even beyond the tiredness, there was a strange choked quality to his voice. Holst mustered his strength to get up on his elbows, bliss replaced quickly by dread upon seeing the wet stains on Cyril's face. "Goddess, Cyril, are you alright? Did I hurt you? That was too rough, I _knew_ it was-"

"Huh?" Cyril stared up at him lazily, then slowly reached a hand to his cheek, as surprised as Holst that he found tears there. "Oh, um... don't worry about it, it was just... that was just a lot. I'm, I'm feeling a lot."

"You're absolutely sure? You're not hurt anywhere?"

"I don't think-" Cyril shifted under him, the movement of his legs dragging out a tired groan. "Ouuuch, it feels like a day-old bruise down there. I-is that normal?"

Holst turned his head away, lest Cyril see his cheeks grow as pink as his hair. "Ah, yes, with how... vigorous I was, it might, er, it might hurt to walk tomorrow."

"What?!" A fist thumped tiredly against his chest. "I got work, I can't be sore down there!"

Immediately back to the topic of work, was he? He was dedicated if nothing else. "Look, it's my fault you'll most likely be bedridden, so I'll- I'll make it up to you! Whatever is on your schedule for tomorrow, I'll handle it for you."

"Ugh, I hate people doing my work for me..." Holst rolled onto his side, giving Cyril more room to breathe and allowing Holst to see that he wasn't being entirely serious. "Well, at least you're actually offering. I expected you to be like your sister."

"By the Goddess, Cyril, you slept with her too?!"

He chuckled as Cyril thumped his chest again. "Gross! You're awful."

For how vindictive he was acting, Cyril didn't protest when Holst threw an arm around his waist. "In all seriousness, Cyril, I didn't mean to lose myself so much. I had hoped to make your first time an... easier affair, and I'm sorry about that."

Cyril stared at him, something ruminating behind his eyes before they, quite suddenly, grew gentle. Much more gentle than Holst had ever seen. "I didn't hate it, so, it's fine."

It wasn't quite the smile he'd been looking for. But, as Holst kissed him gently on the neck and Cyril breathed a sigh of contentment, it was just as good as one.


End file.
